


contrition

by Arcane_Apparition



Series: 31 Days of Wayhaven 2020 [4]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: And Physical Hurt, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, she's got Emotional Issues and feels guilty, this is a rewrite of Sanja's scene to fit my detective a little better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27018913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcane_Apparition/pseuds/Arcane_Apparition
Summary: “You go in, the others need to be briefed.” She’d thought Ava’s words were a blessing. They’d all been on pins and needles since coming back, waiting to hear how Nate was. Waiting to hear if he’d make it. They’d saved Sanja, completed their mission. It was a success, for all intents and purposes.Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling like there was a lead weight pressing down on her chest, pressing on her heart until it ached and threatening to crush the air from her lungs.
Relationships: Female Detective/Nathaniel "Nate" Sewell
Series: 31 Days of Wayhaven 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957801
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	contrition

“You go in, the others need to be briefed.” She’d thought Ava’s words were a blessing. They’d all been on pins and needles since coming back, waiting to hear how Nate was. Waiting to hear if he’d make it. They’d saved Sanja, completed their mission. It was a success, for all intents and purposes.

Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling like there was a lead weight sitting on her chest, pressing on her heart until it ached and threatening to crush the air from her lungs.

Guilt. Heavy, overwhelming, _suffocating_. He’d almost died because of a call she made, that blood was on her hands.

( _She remembers him motionless, bloodied and bruised. Not healing, why wasn’t he healing? She’d moved to stabilize him. Somebody was yelling but all she could hear was the roaring in her ears. It wasn’t until they got back that she realized her own throat was raw, the biting taste of copper on her tongue_ -)

Now she’s alone, staring at the door as Ava’s footsteps fade out of earshot. She’d been so anxious to see him, and now she’d basically been given an order to do just that, and yet she can’t bring herself to move. She’s rooted to the spot, watching the doorknob as if it would strike her if she were to reach out. The anxiety of whether or not he was going to be okay - _survive_ \- has quickly been replaced with the fear of confronting it all. Confronting the consequences of her own actions.

Still, she forces herself to take a breath, trying to tame the rapid pace her heart is at, before reaching out and pushing the door open to step inside.

His room is…exactly how she pictured it being, if she’s being honest with herself. Any overhead lights he might have are off in favor of a few ornate lamps that give the room a warm glow. Dark stained furniture and shelves filled with books and ornaments she’s sure costs more than her entire apartment decorate the space. It feels like stepping into the cross between a library and an antique shop, but still somehow feeling homey despite it all. It feels very much like _him_.

She just about trips over her own feet when she notices the stuffed rabbit sitting on one of the shelves as if proudly on display. It looks so ridiculously out of place from everything else in the room that at any other point, when she didn’t feel like she was walking on a razor’s edge with her emotions, the sight of it would’ve made her smile.

Right now, the sight of it just makes her throat feel tight.

She finishes looking around – (works up the courage, delaying the inevitable)- and looks to the four-poster bed where Nate is laying. His skin is ashen, dark circles under his eyes adding to his battered and exhausted appearance. Every bit of skin she can see is wrapped in gauze and bandages.

That lead weight gets heavier.

He cracks one eye open, offering what she thinks is meant to be a smile. It comes across more as a pained wince. “Abby.”

“Nate,” She tries to stay composed. Tries so desperately to stay put together, collected. Wants to keep all the little broken pieces of her together, locked away and buried because _he’s_ hurt, the last thing he needs is _her_ falling apart.

( _She needs to hold her head up and face the damn consequences of her actions_.)

But her voice cracks anyways, and the smile she tries to force falters as quickly as she can muster it. “Nate I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have- I should have gone for you instead-“

“Please, Abby, don’t.” He cuts her off, either not wanting to hear her blame herself or hear her finish her sentence she can’t be sure, “There’s nothing you need to apologize for. You did what we needed to do. What I wanted you to do.” His assurances don’t ease the sting in her eyes or help the ache in her chest.

“But look what happened to you.” She waves weakly, eyeing some of the bandages across his chest.

( _Look at what her own choices caused, that bitter little voice reminds her. She caused this. This, his hurt, is on her_.)

“I’ll heal, that I can assure you.” He says softly. Still she chews at her thumbnail, shifting from one foot to the other. He smiles again, a little easier this time, and pats a spot on the bed next to him. It takes her a minute to work up the courage to walk over, sitting down on the edge of the bed to keep from bumping into him. He reaches out, taking her hand in his. One of them intertwines their fingers with the other’s, the habit becoming so natural now she doesn’t even register it happening.

(- _and she remembers holding his still hand in hers, the memory still so vivid and raw she nearly jerks back from the touch_ -)

“How is Sanja?” His voice brings her back. She squeezes his hand a little tighter just to feel him return the gesture. Just to be sure.

“She’s fine.” She answers, glancing at the wall just to look somewhere that isn’t him because she can’t keep her eyes off the dark bruising mottling his skin. “As fine as she can be, I guess. Burns and scratches mostly. She needs rest.”

“That’s good. There’s still hope for the treaty then.” Abby nods, but the motion is more just a reaction then actual acknowledgement. So much had happened, too much in such a short period of time, that she hadn’t really even thought much about the treaty.

( _Some agent she’s turning out to be. A real asset to the team_.)

His grip loosens a little, enough to make her heart jump in her throat, until she looks over and realizes he’s just relaxing. Settled. Pain slowly easing from his features as it becomes clear he’s fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open.

“I think what the doctors gave me is beginning to kick in.” He chuckles, tone a little deeper and voice a little slower.

“Good, it should help you sleep most of this off. I’ll go and let you get some rest.” She nods, quick to try and stand. She’s slipping from that edge, every emotion she’s trying to rein in threatening to break free, choke her. She needs- she’s not even sure anymore. To get some air, maybe? Some space to be alone?

His grip on her hand tightens, freezing her in place as she looks back over at him.

“Stay, please.” He looks up at her, eyes a little unfocused as his brow furrows a bit, “I’ll rest easier with you here.”

Something twists in her chest at the request. Sharper than the guilt and anger that’s brewing in her, it’s a twinge of a tug that makes it feel as though her heart skips a beat. She slowly sits back down, adjusting a bit so she can cradle their clasped hands in her lap.

“Thank you.” He’s still watching her, expression soft and a hint of that familiar glimmer in his eyes. It’s the look he gives her that always manages to cheer her up, chase any problem or fear from her mind. And even now, when he’s definitely too out of it to realize how much comfort he brings her, she can feel some of the edge being taken off the guilt. A slight ease from the weight on her chest.

( _Until she remembers -reminds herself- just how close she could’ve come to never seeing that look again_.)

It isn’t long before he’s asleep, eyes closed, breathing deep and even. She looks him over again, forcing herself to survey all the bruises and gashes peeking out from under the bandages. She shifts a little closer, reaching out to brush some of his hair away. It’s more to get it out of his face, but when she notices the hint of a smile on his lips, she repeats the motion. Another tug in her chest, another skip of her heartbeat. Her composure cracks then, and she finally lets it happen. She’s too tired to try and bury it all back down again. She cries quietly, because it’s just her now and the tears will be long gone before anyone has to know they were there.


End file.
